


The Moon's Sacrifice

by Damalia (Achrya)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Biting, But Not Much, Cuddling & Snuggling, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oral Sex, Pack Dynamics, Pack Politics, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Rimming, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 02:21:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7134686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Damalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every year on the Spring Moon all the unclaimed, unpresented of age wolves gather for the ritual of Fertile Moon, which is supposed to bless the pack with many healthy pups in the coming year. This year Eren and Armin from the East packs, Marco and Jean from the North, and Bertholdt and Reiner from the South are the Moon's chosen sacrifices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Moon's Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> I was sad about certain developments in the manga (all my OTP's are half dead/dying) so I decided to write lots of filthy primal public sex for my faves. LOTS. It also seemed like a good way to go for my hundredth fic on AO3. 
> 
> This is Eremin/Reibert/JeanMarco and I don't have any real partner swapping planned but there is something that is Bertholdt guiding Eren through touching himself while sitting in his lap (omegas helping out other omegas, yo.) in this bit. It's non-graphic but if that bugs you it is possible to skip all of Marco's PoV if you want (or just the first half? or so)

 

Jean didn’t exactly squirm as the procession of older unmated wolves crossed in front of him. Some stopped to sniff the air around him and others even leaned in to breath him in deeper and in one case to lick over his scent gland. He nearly shrank away from that one, a brown haired beta, judging by his robes, male at least ten cycles older than he was from a neighboring pack, but a sharp look from Elder Levi pinned him in place. 

Most of his fellows were plucked out of the lineup. He gnawed at his lip anxiously as Mina was taken away by two females, both alphas, and Franz was deemed acceptable by a red haired beta female who didn’t look much older than they were. By the time the line up was finished there were only eight of them from a group of near thirty. The only one left from his pack group was Marco, who stepped closer and slotted their fingers together when it was clear things were winding down. 

It helped some and he managed a smile for his friend, but worry began to gnaw at him.  

As much as he had loathed the idea of someone declaring him their mate he found being left behind even worse. At least there was certainty, security, in being chosen. Going unclaimed could mean any manner of things; that his scent wasn’t pleasing to anyone at all, that he smelled ‘off’ or of illness, that even with the Spring Moon elixir in his system he was failing to present as his secondary gender. If he was exceptionally lucky it might just mean he was a beta and would be passed over for the season, allowed to do as he pleased until next year when he’d be part of the procession instead of the lineup.

The burning in his gut told him that was unlikely. It wasn’t bad yet, as he’d heard the first time could be, but he knew things were just beginning. He didn’t know if a heat or a rut was being crept towards but he knew which one he hoped for. There was nothing good or honorable, in his opinion, about being an omega during the Fertile Moon ritual and being mounted by whatever alpha was present and got to him first, no matter what the elders claimed. 

He very much did not want to be gotten with child ‘for the good’ of the packs and he cursed his body for putting him in situation at all in one breath and prayed he would be alpha with the next. He doubted that was how it would turn out though. He didn’t know why he felt that way or what the feeling was, really, but somewhere in the back of his mind he’d always sort of known he wasn’t going to be an alpha. Not because he was some doe eyed swooning omega or because he lacked the strength and will alphas were said to have…

It was just a feeling. A wiggling in the back of his mind and an itch somewhere deep that told him what he was even though there wasn’t really any way of knowing. Or next to no way; a healer could examine a wolf and feel for the undeveloped knot or, for male omegas, the hidden birth canal but that was considered a taboo only broken in extreme circumstances. Wolves were supposed to go into their first heat or rut ‘pure’ and unprepared to allow instincts to ‘rule’. It was meant to be like how things used to be, before they’d started building towns and living more like their human counterparts. 

Most wolves presented by the time they were seventeen but if they hadn’t then they would be rounded up and taking to the central pack’s lands to be part of the Fertile Moon ritual. They were given the elixir, which would force a heat or rut, and told to stand up on the dais in the center of the meeting arena as eligible wolves from the collected packs examined them for a compatible scent. That they couldn’t scent them back, the ability to pick up pheromones something that would develop along with the first rut or heat, and that he was at the mercy at whoever came by, unable to even confirm a potential match, had been unnerving.

Those who stood at the end, unclaimed, would be prepared to be sacrifices to the moon on behalf of all the packs. 

Which was, Jean knew, just a fancy way of saying made to mount or be mounted by the other unclaimed and unpresented once their heats and ruts had taken hold. Ideally someone would end up carrying and that would mean the Moon had blessed the packs with many healthy pups that year. 

He’d never thought much of it until he’d been made to pack his things and start the journey to the central pack a week ago. Now it was all he could think about.

“Alright,” Elder Levi said once two of their number, a girl named Sasha and a short boy named Connie who’d come from the west, were taken aside by Elder Hanji. They were probably betas. “Come with me.” 

There was no room for argument in the wolf’s tone and even if their had been none of them would have done it. Elder Levi was the mate of the Eastern packs head, Chief Erwin, and known to be a fierce fighter and worthy leader in his own right. Defying or questioning him was asking for nothing but trouble at best and an asskicking at worst.

It was tempting. Perhaps provoking Elder Levi would end up with him injured and help exempt from what was to come next. Or perhaps they’d shove him, bloody and injured, into the ritual den anyway. 

Marco’s thumb tapped against the back of his hand as they walked over hard packed dirt trails, leading them away from the town’s center, past homes and then around to the stables. Behind the stables was a river; the water was clear and it burbled softly. 

“Take these.” Small squares of dark brown soap, flecked with black and purple, were slapped into each other their hands. Elder Levi eyed his and Marco’s connected hands for a moment but said nothing about it as he continued down the line. “This is lavender ash soap, for the cleansing ritual. Strip down, wash yourselves well. Someone will be coming by after to bring new clothes and tell you what to do next.” 

“Uhmm.” The smallest of them, a blond from the east who Jean hadn’t gotten a chance to speak to because he had an angry green eyed brunette all but stitched to his side, raised his hand then, catching Levi’s bland look, put it back down quickly and blushed. “I...we’re washing in the river? Together?” 

“I would work on shedding that modesty Arlert.” Elder Levi’s expression didn’t really change and yet Jean got the impression he was amused. “Yes. Normally an omegas body will purge itself during pre-heat but, since that process will be skipped, It is something you’ll all need to do manually. You might find the extra help useful.”

The blond went from pink to bright hot red and mumbled his understanding. The brunette with him frowned unhappily.

“If that’s everything.” Elder Levi started to turn away from them. “Be quick.” 

“Wait!” Jean says because he’s never known when to shut his mouth and doesn’t see any reason why he should start learning to do so now. Marco squeezed his hand. The others, wide eyed and jittery, spared them anxious looks but otherwise continued down the rocky bank. 

“What?” Eder Levi managed to cram enough irritation in his words to make even Jean doubt himself. But then he stood up straighter and met the man’s flat gray eyes. 

“Can’t you just tell us what we are? So we can be ready?” 

He knew, like they all knew, they were supposed to go into the ritual blind but it was just so...stupid. Why leave them in the dark when anyone with a working nose could just tell them what they were? He didn’t understand the taboo. 

Levi’s eyebrows went up but that was the only change from his unnervingly bored expression. “You think I should break the rules of the ritual and risk the blessing of the Moon, and the future litters of all of the packs, because you can’t stand to wait a few hours?” 

Admittedly when presented like that, under the assumption of one actually believing the ritual actually did something, it sounded crazy to even ask. He started to turn to the river, ready to go about the cleansing, when Elder Levi called his name. 

The older wolf gave him a slow once over then, voice dropping low enough that Jean had to strain to hear it, he spoke. “I would suggest you do a  _ very _ through job with your cleansing. And work on relaxing.”

Elder Levi was gone, vanished around the corner of the stables, before the words made any sense to him but when they did he found himself swaying on suddenly weak knees. A hand pressed against the small of his back, lending strength, and he looked up to meet Marco’s dark eyes. 

“He’s probably messing with you.” Is what Marco, kind and sweet enough to lie to his face if he’d thought it’d make him feel better, said. Unfortunately how wide his eyes were and the way he’d gone pale under his brown skin gave him away. 

And, of course, Jean had already known, he’d just been pretending and hoping that if he pretended enough it would become the truth. But it hadn’t and here he was and he was...terrified.

“I’m-” He stopped and looked out at the others, all seemingly oblivious to the softly spoken words. “What if I’m the only omega?” 

He knew what would happen, they both knew, but he asked anyway. It was something that had happened before (as had the reverse) and it didn’t matter. The ritual would continue and if he was the only omega then he would be used to satisfy five ruts. There wouldn’t be any alternative or recourse once things were underway. He might not even have the ability to care once it started and, even if he did, it wouldn’t matter. 

His stomach lurched in a way that he couldn’t completely write off as fear. A wave of shame followed it. 

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

He looked for the lie on Marco’s face but found grim determination instead. He thought, not for the first time, that Marco was going to be a good alpha to someone eventually. That was something he’d always known too, even when they were small and Marco had been short and round, permanently sunburned, and adorably gap toothed. 

He was taller now, skin a sunkissed tan splattered with freckles, and had ended up strong from long hours spent helping his parents and siblings in the fields. Even unpresented he attracted the attention of other wolves. More than once Jean had noticed hungry eyes lingering on his friend and that when people talked to him they seemed overly inclined to touch. Marco, of course, was ridiculously unaware and laughed it off when Jean pointed it out to him. 

“Okay.” 

\---

The water was cold. It was to be expected, it was only just now turning from winter to spring and Armin could feel the chill from the newly melted ice in the river. He thought going in all at once would be the best way to do it but when he broke the surface, gasping for air that had been driven from his lungs in shock, he was less sure. 

He pushed his hair out of his face then looked around. The river was about chest deep for him where he’d jumped in but he could see that towards the center, where the much taller brunette and blond from the south were standing, would probably be near his shoulders. The current wasn’t too strong, an ever present push and pull around his body trying to move him along but not quite strong enough to actually do it. 

A splash followed by a gasp and a curse right next to him announced Eren’s presence in the river. He waded closer to the shore, soap in hand, and was trying to work up a half-decent lather on his skin when Eren joined him. His friend’s teeth were chattering, his arms were crossed over his chest, and his hair, usually an unruly mess, was slick and clinging to his skin. He looked sullen, as he had since they’d set out from their homes a week ago to make the trip to the central lands, and Armin expected pouting to begin any moment. 

Or maybe full on anger. Eren had a hair-trigger temper and Armin had been able to feel him quietly seething since they’d downed the elixir with their lunch. Armin was trying to make the best of the situation; no this wasn’t ideal but they’d known it was coming. They were both from families prone to being late bloomers so ending up here was no great surprise. Eren’s parents had, in fact, bonded during the fertility rites twenty years ago. That no one had chosen either of them was more surprising but was, maybe, a small blessing. 

The odds that they’d both be able to return back to their pack and their families went up like this. To Armin that was what was most important. If they could manage to get through what was coming and walk out of the ritual den unbonded they’d be headed back east in a few days.  

With that thought in mind he relaxed some as he turned his attention to washing his hair. It actually, he decided, wasn’t all that bad. He’d been dealing with waves of sticky heat running through his body on and off since lunch and the frigid water did wonders to combat that. He was achy too, like he got when he was sick, but the water and rubbing at the sore and tight spots as he washed helped. 

Eren, however, looked increasingly frustrated as he rubbed his skin until it was raw and red. There was tension in his shoulders and all of his movements were fast and jerky; the frown on his face had become a furious scowl. Armin could practically feel the unhappiness radiating off of him. 

He wished there was something he could say or do to make everything that was happening more tolerable for Eren but, at the end of the day, nothing he did would change anything. The Spring Moon and the ritual were deeply ingrained in their people and their faith. 

Just like the alpha brawl when a leader died or needed to be challenged or when a carrier of age was widowed or abandoned. Like the house raisings and blessing for newly bonded pairs in the summer. The birthing season and presenting fresh pups to the moon in the winter. Those, and the Spring Moon and breeding season, were the events that their communities revolved around. The backbones of the packs. 

The old priests who tended to the cave shrines and temples carved out of the salt tunnels underground called being a participant in the fertility rites a great honor. To go unpresented and unclaimed was, supposedly, to be chosen by the moon to spread it’s blessing throughout the packs. Even better if someone ended up with child: for the next year that omega was considered a representative of the moon, temporarily deified, and their pups treated as well as the pups that came from the pack alpha’s line. 

And that was all well and good but Armin wasn’t sure he was looking forward to that potential anymore than Eren seemed to be. Not that Eren was likely to present as an omega whereas for Armin it had always seemed like a forgone conclusion, a matter of time. The assumption had been there most of his life, spurred by the soft features and small stature he’d inherited from his carrier, and now with his body aching and heat bubbling in his stomach, he was sure of it.

It worried him. He’d always hoped that, when the time came, he and Eren would end up compatible (he’d never been able to imagine himself with someone else) and now, with these others entered into the equation, he wanted that more than ever. An alpha in rut wouldn’t care nearly as much as scenting: any nearby carrier would work to satisfy their needs. He’d heard of situations where there was only one or two omegas to a larger group of alphas and he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about that now. If he ended up the only omega the only thing that would be between him and the others in the group was Eren. 

All the ‘blessing’ and ‘honor’ in the world wouldn’t make him comfortable with the idea of carrying a child whose sire he didn’t know and, perhaps, would never be able to identify beyond ‘one of these five or four alphas’. 

He was pulled from his thoughts by a hiss of pain. He moved towards Eren without thinking, reaching out for the hunched over brunette. His hand touched Eren’s shoulder and for a second he was alarmed at the sheer amount of heat radiating from his friend. The next second his hand was being smacked away and Eren was glaring at him dazedly as he stumbled back. 

“Don’t!” Eren growled out. He was upright for a moment, face twisted into something dark and furious, and then he was bending forward again and groaning.

Armin stayed where he was, hands itching with his desire to try and do something for his friend but not wanting to upset him more. “Eren?”

His friend shook his head, sending water droplets arcing through the air. “Don’t. I’m fine. Just...hurts.” 

“Hurts? Your stomach?” He didn’t understand the words even as he said them. There was no reason for Eren to be in pain. Cramps were typical during a heat, especially the first one, but there was nothing like that during a rut and Eren wasn’t-

He blinked dumbly, taking in the way Eren was clutching his stomach, then breathed in sharply. Green eyes watched him through wet lashes and he could tell that Eren had already come to the same conclusion. He bit his lip, gaze darting to the other pairs, as the worry he’d been feeling grew. 

“It’s fine. Let’s just finish cleaning up.” Eren mumbled. Armin nodded absently, mind already trying to work through their options and various possible scenarios. 

They didn’t speak anymore as they finished up, facing away from each other as they handled the more ‘delicate’ parts. Armin had touched himself down there before, curious about his own body and wanting to know what was what before he was in a position to let someone else touch him, but never in front of other people, let alone Eren and four people he didn’t know. And, while he resolutely didn’t look, he couldn’t block out the soft whimpering sounds Eren was making a few feet away from him. 

By the time they were done and climbing back up the bank Elders Hanji and Petra were waiting, one holding towels and the other simple homespun tunics for them to put on. Armin’s was long, hanging below his knees. By contrast the, very embarrassed, dark haired southern’s tunic just barely covered his backside. His blond friend wasn’t in a much better state. 

Once they were dressed it was a short walk across the bridge spanning the river to the north part of the grounds and then a much longer walk to the fertility den. There were wolves, all in their shifter forms, lining the path and watching them intently. All part of the ritual, all couples interested in conceiving would come to watch and try to catch some of the Moon’s good fortune from its chosen representatives in hopes it would help them breed. Armin felt very small under their sharp gazes and, in nothing but a tunic and his human skin, more like prey than a wolf. His heart was pounding in his chest and his legs were heavy like tree trunks. Each step felt like it was in slow motion and every pair of eyes was burning into him, trying to peel back his skin and look right through him. 

He was so focused on the people around their small procession that he didn’t even notice they’d reached their destination 

It was a dug out space in the side of a grassy hill. The entrance had stone doors, currently pushed open, that were inscribed with old glyphs and runes that only those in the priesthood could read these days. Inside there was a small front chamber that had three more chambers branching off of it. The ceilings were just tall enough for the northern, who introduced himself as Bertholdt when Hanji asked, to stand without hitting his head off of it. 

One of the side chambers had waterskins, dried meat, dried fruit and vegetables, and bread back away into it. Another had a small creek splitting the floor, a hole in the ceiling that let sunlight and air trickle down, and some buckets piled along the wall but was otherwise bare. The very back chamber, that largest, had furs, blankets, and pillows on the ground, a firepit in the center, and another small round hole in the ceiling, though this one was covered by a small metal grate. 

A nesting and breeding chamber. He felt heat rushing up his face as the realization of what was supposed to happen in that room set in. 

They were told that someone would be posted on the hill to keep anyone who might get any ideas about sneaking in away and if they needed anything the hole in the water chamber would serve as a way to shout up. The entrance was going to be shut at sunset, after the priests came by and purified the area. 

With that said they were left alone and, after exchanging some wary looks, they once again broke into the same pairs as before and claimed spots along the wall, as far apart as they could manage. 

Armin put the others out of his mind and put all of his attention on Eren who wasn’t looking so good. His face was flushed and damp with sweat, his hair was clinging to his skin, and his eyes were drooping heavily and glazed over. He sat with his back to the wall and bare legs drawn up to his chest as he panted heavily, pale lips open and wet and, even though he was sitting a foot or two away, Armin could feel how warm he was. 

He wasn’t sure how long passed but, after a while, he heard muffled chanting and howling. No doubt the priests were working to officially start the season. The doors would be sealed and then the bonded couples outside would retreat to their dens, or in same cases go about it where they were, to start attempting to breed. 

He listened with half an ear as the voices blended and overlapped with the howling, growing louder and louder with each passing moment. Eren looked like he was listening to, head cocked towards the den’s entrance, but all too soon he had a hand over his eyes and was holding his stomach again. He moaned quietly, grimacing in apparent pain, and Armin winced in sympathy. 

A glance around showed everyone else looking like they felt fine, if not a little sweatier than was typical for sitting inside a cool burrow. 

While he didn’t want to be in pain he did wonder why he wasn’t feeling anything that would suggest he was going into heat. Yes he was hot and his muscles were aching, so he knew something was coming, but there were no cramps, no tremors, no sudden fatigue as his body got itself ready to be bred. 

All he felt was a desire to get closer to Eren and try to make him feel better and that wasn’t exactly a new impulse. It wasn’t even worthy of note. 

Eren’s head tipped back, exposing the length of his neck, and he swiped away the sweat beading on his forehead before looking over at Armin. He waited for Eren to say something but green eyes just stared at him. He hesitated, swallowed, then shifted closer. He half expected to be pushed away again but once he was close enough Eren slumped against him with a sigh. 

His stomach flipped and his mouth was suddenly very dry. 

“Hurts.”

Armin nodded, looking down at the head resting on his shoulder. “Maybe try to sleep? It might...pass by the time you wake up.” 

Eren’s shoulder went up in a halfhearted shrug but when Armin maneuvered him down so his head was pillowed in his lap he went without protest. He carefully put his hand on Eren’s head and, when it was met with only a whispery gasp, he left it there. 

The chanting and howling was even louder now but, instead of being distracting, it was oddly soothing when mixed with the sound of Eren’s breathing and the whispers of the others in the chamber. Even though he’d had no intention of doing so Armin found himself drifting off. 

When he woke up the world was eerily silent and a mouthwatering sweet and heady smell was thick in his nose and mouth. It took a few beats to realize he couldn’t hear chanting anymore and, in fact, even the others in the room were quiet. Eren was asleep, face pressed into Armin’s stomach and one arm curled around and under his legs. Everywhere Eren was pushed against him was warmed by his friends body heat and sweaty enough that the thin tunic was plastered to his skin. More pressing that how uncomfortably warm he had become was that every time his friend shifted in his sleep his cheek rubbed against Armin’s dick, which was already half hard.

A quick look around found that the northern duo seemed to be asleep, having claimed some furs and laid down next to each other. The other two were sitting around the fire pit, watching the small fire jump and sway, not speaking. 

Which brought him back to Eren. 

Eren.

He moved his hand without thinking and carded his fingers through sweaty hair, drifted them over Eren’s sleeping face, and then came to a halt pressing lightly on his neck. He felt dizzy and shaky the longer he looked down at Eren, like when he went too long without eating, and yes he felt hungry too. 

But not like he was used to. It was different and strange, a need to have something badly, to get his mouth onto something, but he wasn’t sure what. Not food, he knew that much, even though that cloying sweetness was making saliva pool in his mouth and his stomach clench and...other things. It called to something in him and he could feel the wolf, usually nothing more than a quiet echo at the edge of his thoughts and feelings, pushing just under his skin. It itched but not really and he felt too small for himself, tight and trapped, in a way that didn’t make sense. 

And he wanted. Wanted. Something. Needed it. His gums were itching to the point of pain and he thought he could taste blood on his tongue. 

“Ngh. Armin?” Eren’s voice was sleep roughened and confused. “What?”

He was thumbing over Eren’s scent gland, which was raised and felt swollen under his touch. He stopped, dimly surprised, but didn’t move his hand. He wanted to, knew he needed to because just deciding to touch someone like that without their permission was not acceptable, but he didn’t. 

“You smell really good.” He said and, as Eren’s eyes rounded, he realized it was true. Eren was the source of the syrupy sweet smell that was making Armin so lightheaded.

“Your mouth is bleeding.” Eren whispered.  

He nodded absently, unbothered and used his thumb to rub a small circle over Eren’s scent gland. His friend gasped then groaned even as he shook his head and reached up to push Armin’s hand away. He resisted, pressing harder. Eren shivered in his lap then swore loudly. His eyes slammed shut and he curled in on himself, legs drawing up towards his body as the hand around Armin’s wrist spasmed. 

“Hurtsss.”  

Eren’s scent seemed to get heavier and gained a musty note he could taste on his tongue. Wanted to taste. That was okay wasn’t it? Eren was his, wasn’t he? It would help, he knew it would. He could make Eren feel better. He could-

“Stop it!” 

He’d forgotten there was even anyone else in the room, his whole focus narrowed down to Eren. He had a second to look up and meet angry gold eyes before a hand gripped him by the arm and hauled him up and away from Eren as if he weighed nothing at all. He tried to grab for Eren but wasn’t fast enough to do it before he was all but dragged out of range. He tried to twist around, snarling and snapping like he couldn’t remember ever doing in his life, but the large blond, who smelled sharp and angry and like  _ alpha _ in a way that made Armin’s skin crawl, barely spared him a glance as he hauled him out of the chamber. 

The last thing he saw before being taken around a corner was Bertholdt reaching out to put a hand on Eren’s shoulder. 

\---

Marco watched as Reiner hauled the tiny blond (Armin? That was what his friend had called him wasn’t it?) out and Bertholdt crouched in front of the shocked looking brunette. He’d been on the verge of untangling himself from Jean to interfere as well but Reiner and Bertholdt had been closer and handled the situation with ease. 

It was better this way. While he was like this, with Jean pressed against him, head tucked under his chin and legs tangled with his, he could ignore that there were two other omegas in the room, one of whom was filling the entire chamber with his scent. Jean’s scent wasn’t nearly as strong, though it was getting worse (or better, maybe) and Bertholdt’s was barely there at all. He’d noticed it when they’d been building the fire together but Jean had unfolded from his sulk to drag him back to their ‘corner’, and snapped at him to stay away, before he could get a real feel for it. 

“You okay?” Bertholdt asked. “Eren, right?” 

The smaller omega nodded. His eyes were trained towards the chamber’s entrance and his hand was clamped over his neck protectively. Bertholdt reached up to pull his hand away and for a moment Eren looked wild and afraid but then Bertholdt made a soft soothing noise. 

“It’s okay, I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to but...it hurts right? There and...you know. Inside?” 

Eren nodded again, slower this time, as he brought his hand down. Bertholdt leaned in closer then made another soft sound. It reminded Marco of something but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. 

Bertholdt’s next words were too quiet for Marco to hear but whatever it was made Eren’s mouth fall open in shock. Then, looking down at his hands, he said something back. Bertholdt sighed then, casting a look over his shoulder at Marco, shifted so he was sitting down. He pulled Eren close then arranged him in his lap, his chest against the smaller man’s back, with his legs splayed open and the tunic pushed up around his stomach.

Marco’s eyes roamed over thighs that were painted with something wet and shiny and Eren’s erection. A lump rose up in his throat. 

One of Eren’s hands was lifted to press against his neck and then the other was guided down between his thighs. 

Marco bit the inside of his cheek. 

“Okay, press against your gland gently.” Bertholdt said as he leaned over Eren’s shoulder to look down at their joined hands. “And-slow. Just one finger.” 

Eren’s hissed out a pained noise and jerked in Bertholdt’s hold. “Ah! Wait, that’s-”

“Stop watching.” An elbow dug into his ribs hard. “You turn out to be an alpha and now you’re some sort of pervert?” 

He shuffled so he was pressing his nose against Jean’s head, breathing in a scent that was a little like apples, fresh and tart with a touch of sweet, and muttered an apology. He wasn’t sure why he was apologizing or why he had a feeling like he’d hurt Jean somehow and needed to make up for it, but he did. 

Jean didn’t say anything to him or even turn to look at him. 

Behind him Eren’s breathing became deeper and raspier. Bertholdt was quiet except for occasional direction (“Try another finger. Slow gentle circles. Curl your fingers up like this. Towards your stomach.”). Eren whined, gasped, and then let out a loud keening noise that went straight to Marco’s dick. 

Bertholdt’s soft encouraging noise had a similar effect. 

Marco pressed his nose deeper into Jean’s hair and tried to angle his hips away to put a little space between them. And, hopefully, preserve some of his dignity by not poking Jean with his rapidly hardening dick.

“I’m already judging you so you might as well stay like you were.” So much for his dignity. “I can’t believe they’re...doing that.” 

“Well,” Marco said carefully. “It hurts, right? You said it did before you went to sleep, so if it helps then why not?” 

Jean pushed out an annoyed breath through his teeth. “They don’t even know each other.” 

“So if they knew each other it would be okay?” It felt surreal to be having what was almost a normal talk, with Jean being sort of a jerk and him trying to be reasonable, when they were shut in a cave for the express purpose of having sex (maybe with each other, maybe with other people, but hopefully just...just with Jean. If Jean was willing and wanted him and he hoped Jean wanted him.) and the air was heavy with the scent of omega and heat. 

Jean went rigid and very quiet; it was enough to let him know that he had, it seemed, said the wrong thing. 

Marco sighed, trying very hard to focus on fresh apples and not the heavy spiced syrup of Eren’s scent, then jerked back when Jean’s hand touched his. Fingers curled around his own then slowly his hand was drug around Jean’s body. Their joined hands skimmed over Jean’s stomach. Jean used his free hand to yank the fabric up some, grumbling as he did, then moved Marco’s hand to press just below his belly button. Jean’s skin was fever hot under his fingertips and damp with sweat. 

Jean let out a breathy sigh then turned his head slightly to catch his eyes. Sharp amber was softer and a little fogged over. “Do you think that actually helps? With the pain?” 

Marco listened to Eren’s strained panting. “It sounds like it might.” 

Jean’s expression shifted from irritated to unimpressed to nervous lightening fast. “Can you...will you...help me?” 

Marco forgot how to breathe or form words that weren’t a strangled squawk so he nodded instead. Jean’s lips lifted in a slight smile but his expression quickly smoothed out. 

“Okay. Good. So. Uh...how should we…?” 

Marco considered it for approximately half a second. He’d never done anything more than kiss and some over the clothes touching with anyone else, since wolves frowned on fooling around outside of a bond (Unless of course you ended up as part of the Spring Fertility Ritual), so he didn’t really know what was best, but he knew what he wanted and hoped it would work.

“Flip over to face me.”

Jean complied then brought his leg up so it was draped over Marco’s waist. He could see now that Jean was pink from him neck to the tips of his ears and refused to meet his eyes. Marco let that stand for a moment, focusing on reaching around and finding a fur within arm’s reach to drag over them. 

Jean’s eyebrow went up in question. “I don’t want anyone else to watch.”

He didn’t want anyone else to see Jean. 

Amber eyes flicked up to meet his own then slid away again. Marco put a hand on Jean’s waist then, when his friend inched a little closer, moved it down to the curve of Jean’s ass. He watched Jean’s teeth catch on his bottom lip then bite down. 

“Okay?” A nod. 

Marco squeezed Jean’s ass gently and Jean’s eyes widened as a surprised noise rose up in his throat. He repeated the action, kneading the hot skin and digging his fingers in until, finally, Jean’s mouth dropped open around a groan. He looked embarrassed and tried to duck his head but Marco to bump their foreheads together, stopping him. 

“Hey. Can I kiss you?” He wanted to, he really wanted to. Jean smelled so good already and it was getting better, deeper and stronger, the longer Marco’s hand was on him. He felt good pressed against him, hot and firm, every breath brushing over Marco’s chin and neck, and he...wanted to kiss him.

It felt like it was right. All of this felt right (well, maybe not the location, but touching Jean in general.) and Jean smelled right and to the wolf lurking under Marco’s skin it was all inevitable. 

Surprise was written all over Jean’s face but, eyes sweeping over Marco’s face nervously, he nodded. “Y-yeah.” 

He didn’t do it right away. Instead he squeezed Jean’s ass again then moved his thumb to trail down the crack. Jean’s leg twitched where it was draped over his hip and his entire body tensed up. Marco watched his face intently as his hand moved, looking for any hint that he was doing something wrong. 

When he reached Jean’s entrance it and the skin around it were wet with a thick slick fluid. The flush on Jean’s skin deepened as his eyes darted around again. He rubbed his thumb against the small wrinkled pucker in a slow circle; he felt more of that slippery wetness leak out over his finger. Jean’s tongue darted out to run over his lips. Marco watched the flash of pink over swollen red then ducked in to press their mouths together. 

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter: Armin attempts to find some chill, Jean attempts to get off, and Bertholdt is really amused about what passes for sex-ed in the other packs and really interested in this thing Reiner does with his tongue.


End file.
